You know the type. At the bar, the chick who is way out of your league, tan, well built. Not aware she’s dating some ‘roided up monster you trudge over to her table and start small talk. Boyfriend comes back from the bathroom, finds you chatting with his trophy.

The last thing you remember is boyfriend planting your forehead into the plywood bar table. Your hospital visit includes 10 stitches and shame at work the next day.